This is a bit weird, because I am writing this today (13th) yet there are scheduled posts that were written before, and therefore this is out of sync, as they will arrive after.
It’s just a bit reflective really. I’ve spent the day with a few people, as we plan to travel (together) to an event they are going to next week. I am not going to that event because it just doesn’t feel like me.
But there are so many things in my head. I’ve been looking up two or three places relating to a blog that I have scheduled. I have also had a huge download of ideas, creative inspiration and more. As well as that I have been thinking about something I wrote – because I read it a lot – and it was there in front of me again today.
I’ve made mistakes, I have done things that I cannot even understand why. But this piece I wrote – even though it was written in moments I was genuinely being sick because I was genuinely worried – it doesn’t read like that at all.
It’s funny how you can read something, read the genuine love in a handwritten note that you made for somebody – right in the middle of so much madness. I think it hits even harder now as I don’t really feel like I am in the eye of the storm anymore. This human being I became that had so many panic attacks – he has gone.
But that letter. It is one thing I will never publish and I spend moments thinking I need to rip it up and throw it to the sea. I just cannot bring myself to do it. I don’t know why. It’s the deepest thing I have ever written. It was the hardest thing to write. It was to somebody whom I truly did love – and who even today, can never be replaced. But throwing it away feels like goodbye – and that moment has long gone. That goodbye can never happen.
I’m not down, depressed, I am not hurting, I just feel genuine remorse and sadness for a moment I wish I could have presented. I wish I wasn’t so scared that I ended up doing the opposite.
It’s 20:14, I’m going to listen to music, cry, and let this run through me.